There she was, at the same window she always stood at. She would stand and stare. Stare at the people walking merrily through the town, always wishing she could join them but could not. She had far to many things to do to be frolicking through town, for she was a maid. So she would take a few minutes, scurry up the stairs, into the room, and to the window. She would watch, watch the clouds go by, watch the children playing hop scotch, she would watch anything. If her master or her mistress would walk by, she would pretend to be washing the window or anything else she could think of at the last second. She loves gazing out the window.

She hates being a maid. She only does it because of her father. Her mother died during childbirth leaving three children and a husband behind. She's...